Tragicomedy
by Thranduil's dead wife
Summary: Tragicomedy is a literary genre that combines elements of tragedy and comedy. There might be a happy ending after a series of unfortunate events.


Hello everyone! Here is my second fanfiction. I hope you will enjoy it and please excuse any grammatical errors as English is my second language.

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1478, Florence

Two weeks had passed since the conspiracy of the Pazzi family, in which Giuliano Medici, younger brother of Lorenzo the Magnificent, was murdered. Even though Lorenzo, ruler of the largest town in Tuscany, was wounded, he survived. Florence was in a chaos when this happened. However, their failure has only strengthened the position of the Medici family.

Nine-year-old Niccolò with a notebook and pencil in hand, was on his way to his Latin language lesson which started at 11. Since he did not approve of being late, he always arrived 15 minutes early. This time he had half an hour more, so he decided to take a stroll on the main square of Florence.

As he approached the unfinished cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore he heard voices having an interesting conversation. A group of noblemen, standing in a circle next to the bank, were discussing the political situation.

Niccolò sat on a bench near them and increased his hearing sense to the highest degree.

„...I have also heard it. It could be true. The Pope has never supported the Medici family."

„They are mad, just as their surname says."

Niccolò laughed at that sentence.

„I only hope that political balance will not be shaken. Without Lorenzo, peace at Lodi will be on paper only. Everybody will suffer damage if that happens, but most of all Florence."

Brown-haired boy shuddered at the thought. He loved his town and was strongly attached to its culture.

„I agree, but I am more interested in the person who saved Lorenzo. Do you happen to know who that is?"

„I heard that it is a very young boy. Some people assume that it is the son of that murdered banker Giovanni Auditore."

One of the noblemen giggled in disbelief.

„Impossible. Wasn't the whole family murdered?"

„I don't know. Maybe the rumours are not true."

Niccolò continued to listen to them, paying no attention to the time. He was in his world. World which interested him. The only thing that bothered him was that he was not allowed to participate in such conversations and to express his opinion. They would just push him away with other children and say that his mind should not be concerned with that. Only his teacher supported him and was always on his side.

„ Latin!" Exclaimed Niccolò and started running as fast as he could.

He knew the teacher would not be angry, but what worried him the most was that he allowed his thoughts to destroy his self-discipline. As he tried not to collide with the passers-by he constantly blamed himself, mumbling angrily.

When he arrived, he had enough strength left to knock three times on the massive door.

He drank two glasses of cold water and recovered himself. Physical activity was never his forte. Teacher laughed at the behaviour of his pupil. He wanted him to be more relaxed, because he would be child only once.

„Niccolò, there is first time for everything. So what if you were late? Don't blame yourself so much. When I was your age, I did not care about the time, I enjoyed it. Even when it was wasted."

The boy nodded. He took a deep breath and tried to listen to the advice of his teacher. Even though he missed five minutes of his class, Niccolò didn't take the book and start analysing Latin texts, but decided to tell what he had heard that day. His teacher listened to him carefully. He was happy because Niccolò, at least for a moment, was relieved of the heavy burden which he always carried on his shoulders.

„And I thought that you have met some pretty girl."

Niccolò grimaced.

„Ugh! Yuck! They only talk about flowers and dolls. They live in an unrealistic world."

The teacher laughed as he turned pages of a thick book.

„Joking aside, it is time for studying. Page 66. Text Catilina."

After two hours of conjugation of verbs through tenses, declination of nouns through cases and translation of the text, Niccolò yawned of tiredness.

„Only the last word in the text more, and we are finished for today."

„Vexabant. That is the 3. Person of plural of indicative of imperfect active of the verb vexo, vexare, vexavi, vexatum which means to disturb, to shake."

„Well done Niccolò. Eh, if only all pupils were like you, teachers would be the happiest people in the world."

Niccolò smiled proudly.

„But, I wanted to ask you something."

Teacher became serious.

„I know that you have let everybody in Florence know that you want to be in politics. You have already at nine years old decided what your vocation in life would be, which is commendable. You have my support on that journey. Besides that, what do you think about writer as a person? "

Niccolò thought for a few seconds before he replied.

„Writer is a great person. Person people mention with respect. He paints our surroundings with words, sees what not many people can see. He can tell us what a birch tree and an oak tree are „saying", what fox „thinks" about the raven, what the waves of the sea are telling us, how an old clock tells the history of the house, when the river is „sad", what parents think about the children and what children want. Writer knows to make our life more beautiful or to make us sad, to make us fantasize and to think about the past, the present and the future."

„And if you were a writer?"

„If I were a writer I would sit in one big room, with many books arranged on the shelves. I would read the books and through these white streams of paper I would expand my knowledge about customs and people, about their life, about pains and sufferings, opinions and ideals, about white and black dogs and their faithfulness, about landscapes of the nature. I would read all those books to learn how to write. Then I would plan the time, take walks and observe the nature, people and animals so I can better understand the composition of the nature. Then I would think long about how to transfer that picture into a story by words. Through words I would send messages to people and I would try to write as beautifully as possible with lots of adjectives, comparisons and figures of speech. I would pay a lot of attention to the character of the people, vices and their relationships and thus teach readers to nurture the beautiful in nature and society. But, I know that writing requires a lot of patience, work and skill. At first I would be afraid, because a lot of effort must be put into writing. Without effort, I wouldn't become famous. I would certainly have to correct one sentence forty times so it would become a literary jewel. I think I would write dramas, too, because I like plays. I would introduce a lot of different characters with their funny behaviour or habits. And then I would enjoy in the theatre as I watch the audience laugh loudly and how satisfied they are after the play."

His teacher smiled and patted him on the head.

„Niccolò. You have great talent and I would like for you to use it to the maximum. Your name will undoubtedly be written down in history, and your works will be read always."

„Thank you teacher. I think I will be like Gaius Sallustius Crispus and write about politicians such as Lucius Catilina. I will write about the real situation, and not the utopia."

Said Niccolò ambitiously.

„That is a great idea! _Gloria discipuli_ , _gloria magistri_."

1503, Rome

A few sentences were needed to finish the comedy which would later be proclaimed masterpiece of the theatre spectacle of the 16th century. Thirty-one-year-old Niccolò Machiavelli took a small sip of the wine and stretched his wrists before taking the quill back into his hand. Weariness started to slow down his concentration and he was using his last atoms of strength to finish his play. He rubbed his eyes and dipped the quill into the ink.

He wanted to write in complete peace and quiet and he hoped that he would get his wish. Machiavelli was not a religious man, but the reason why he said prayers often at night were the musicians regaling the Romans with their music. Their songs and voices caused chaos in his ears. He wondered that his eardrums had not burst yet. Besides, he was forced to put his quill and his thoughts to rest and let these pests their yelling. On the contrary, Machiavelli loved music but he did not like the product of inexperienced self-proclaimed musicians. They unnerved him once so much that he wanted to go to the district where the antic ruins were to find a little peace. However, he remembered that in that part of Rome prowled followers of Romulus, and since he was not as experienced fighter as his friend Ezio, he decided not to risk his life for precious silence.

This night, luck was on his side. He smiled proudly at his finished play. However, the more he looked at the neatly arranged stack of written paper as he tapped with his fingers on the table, the more his smile turned into a grimace. He got inspiration from Talia several months ago and he was pleased with the way he has written his first comedy. But what is the point if the play does not see the light of day, no matter how perfect it is. In that case it is better to burn it or tear it then to leave it to spend eternity locked in the darkness of a vault.

Unlike his previous works this one required scene for its presentation to the world. This play was not for the library, but for the theatre in which actors in colourful costumes would bring it to life, and the audience would judge it.

That is when a plan occurred to him. Smile returned to his face again as he poured a glass of wine carefully.

The next day he got up early and prepared for a long walk across Rome, firmly believing that his plan would work.

First location was „Rosa in Fiore", famous Roman brothel, run by Claudia Auditore. Even though her older brother was always protective of her, Machiavelli thought that Claudia had matured into an independent and strong woman.

At the entrance he was immediately accosted by two courtesans who sent him seductive glances. He gently pushed away their inquisitive hands and explained to them politely that there was another reason for his arrival. They started to giggle childishly behind his back. Machiavelli ignored it and went to the courtesan in blue dress who sat on the first step, bored. When she saw him, she jumped up immediately and took his hand. He was surprised by her unexpected gesture, but also unnerved, because he only wanted to ask her where Claudia was.

„If somebody had told me that Niccolò Machiavelli would be user of services of my girls, I would not have believed them."

Said a melodious voice which belonged to the mistress of the brothel.

Machiavelli blushed and immediately disentangled his hands from the blond girl. She looked at him confused, but Claudia took her arm and whispered in her ear. The courtesan bowed to both of them and went upstairs. Machiavelli composed himself and calmly greeted his friend's younger sister, kissing her hand.

„I need to talk to you, Claudia."

„Drop the formalities, Machiavelli. There is no need for shame. I told the girl to prepare a room for you. And if you don't want only one, it's not a -„

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

„I didn't come for the entertainment. _Per Dio_ , I am married!"

Claudia rolled her eyes.

„So what? Men are free of all shackles here. Don't be-„

Machiavelli raised his hand to silence her.

She nodded, understanding that she had gone too far. She allowed him to explain to her why he needed her help. She listened to his every word carefully, while playing with petals of violet flower in the vase and happily accepted his request.

Machiavelli left the brothel with a wide smile because he had managed to find an actress for one of the roles in his comedy. Somebody would have thought that he had had a good time, the way his face looked happy.

The next person was on the Tiber Island. The place was house of the Assassins who were protected from greedy and merciless Templars. When he entered the hideout of the brotherhood, Machiavelli heard argument between two voices. He recognized the voice of Ezio Auditore immediately, while the other belonged to a curious and chatty person.

„Alessandra, stop reading that book and join the others in the training."

„I hate self-defence. Why the hell do I need throwing myself in hundred directions?"

„Go _. Subito_!"

Said Ezio sternly.

„No."

„Excuse me?"

„I said no. I am an expert in medicine and swordsmanship, and you return us to stone age. I use my brain."

Replied the girl arrogantly, pointing with her index finger to her skull.

„Oh, really?"

„ _Sì_."

Ezio took the book from her hand and threw it on the table.

„Now I am not your teacher any more, but your enemy."

Her eyes opened wide, because he grabbed her by her right hand unexpectedly and threw her over his right shoulder. She fell on her back on the cold floor still surprised by his move. He surrounded her, holding both of her hands, and covered her mouth with his right hand.

„Now that you have been overpowered, can you imagine what some animal or an enemy soldier would do to you?"

The girl murmured positive reply terrified.

„Can you?"

He asked again.

She nodded and stood up after he freed her.

„Now I am your teacher again. Well? Are we learning defence system or should I apply attack phase?"

„I will learn."

„Are you sure?"

„I will learn!"

„Go now."

She bowed and ran out of the building.

„I should have informed you that it is very difficult to hold her attention. Only if you are a book, _amico_."

Said Machiavelli and stepped out of the shadow with a smile.

Ezio smiled and hugged him.

„I know she adores books. Alessandra is an intelligent girl, but she breaks thin line between her confidence and arrogance frequently. She has cursed me many times that I would marry a woman who loves books and has her own library."

„That will not happen, since you have already been cursed as eternal bachelor."

Said Machiavelli as he leafed through the pages of the book which Alessandra had been reading earlier.

Ezio nodded pensively.

„By the way, I noticed that students love and respect you. That doesn't surprise me because they have an excellent teacher."

Cleaning his sword of the blood, Ezio sighed.

„Sometimes I get attached to them too much, and I shouldn't. They are all special in their own way and because of that is required different approach. My heart clenches every time I lose one of them. I could write a book about my adventures with them. One student was afraid to make _balzo della fede_ , the other had inexplicable phobia of water, and I remember one who massacred over 20 enemy soldiers, because one of them had kicked a kitten."

Machiavelli smiled sadly when he remembered these youths. Like him, they had no childhood, that unrepeatable and carefree period in a man's life. They were thrown into an unforgiving world to fight for their lives and noble causes. He was proud of them, because they had will of steel and he loved them even when they were guilty, because life would punish them even when they were not.

„But may I ask for the reason of your visit? Surely you did not come to listen to my stories."

„You're right, I didn't, but they are inspirational. I came to ask you for a favour."

„Of course. Tell me how I can help you."

Ezio patted him on the shoulder.

„Last night I finished one of my works. However, I need actors for it. To see its theatrical value. My request for you is to act in it."

Machiavelli looked at him with eyes full of hope, while Ezio cast a surprised look to his friend.

„Actor, you say? You know Machiavelli that I have tried myself in that role once and that the play finished with, luckily, not too bloody end."

Ezio got goose bumps at the memory.

One of the longest nights in his life.

Even though Ezio was still sceptical, Machiavelli managed to convince him.

„All right. Sometimes I feel like an experiment on which ideas of my genius friends are tested. While you and Leonardo, even as children, were already exploring world and discovering your talents, I thought that there are people who work in heaven, and that their job was to remove the clouds from the sky in the evening, and to return them in the morning."

Machiavelli laughed at his fantasies.

„I believe that you were also interested in anatomy of the female body."

Ezio mocked at his comment.

„Your joke deserves applause."

They said their goodbyes and went in different directions. Besides having one more actor for his comedy, Machiavelli also made a final decision that Ezio Auditore should be proclaimed a Mentor of their brotherhood. It was high time to do it, and Ezio was born for that role.

Machiavelli found a perfect example of a renaissance man stopping to remove a snail from a path, so nobody would step on it. Passers-by cast various glances on him, from astonishment to disgust. Not one has shown admiration for the good deed performed.

Society has made certain norms normal and so we all have to obey them. Machiavelli thought that the one who started to think with his head would understand that all that on which social relationship rests made no sense at all and he would be sanctioned by the same. Because the society does not want different, they want the same, they want those who will not question Why? How? but those who only do what they see so they would be the same as everyone else.

The biggest wish of Machiavelli was to get to know himself from another person's perspective. But at this moment he wished the most to know what happens in the heads of those judgmental people.

Leonardo da Vinci paid no attention to them and that was the beauty and uniqueness of his character. He sat on a bench beside his workshop and started writing in his notebook.

„ _Buongiorno maestro_."

Leonardo snapped from his thoughts.

„ _Salve_ Niccolò!"

The wind began to blow faster to chase the clouds. Carrying the leaves, it made sound which reminded Machiavelli of the sounds of a sword fight. As if the eternal fight between the Assassins and the Templars was being fought before his eyes. But the clouds always returned to take the golden sphere called the sun. During the fight between wind and the clouds, the sun tried to break through to the eternal city as if it wanted to escape that fight.

The artist smiled at that strange and changeable character of the nature surrounding.

„Soon the warm rays of the sun will stop caressing our faces. Far away, almost at the thin line of the horizon, separating the fertile land from the transparent sky, the clouds are gathering. First will appear white-grey clouds as forerunners of a great army they announce and lead. They will take space over the sky beyond the horizon easily. Behind them, as a cavalry regiment, dark and menacing clouds will charge in gallop and conquer the undefended blueness. Like the sound of drummers in the distance the sound will echo which will herald arrival of the new master in the sky. As I sit and watch this great spectacle in the sky, I understand that we are, regardless of all knowledge and miracles which we have mastered, only a small part of the kingdom of nature. I think how powerless I am to stop the wind, to direct the raindrops or to catch a lightning."

Machiavelli looked at Leonardo in wonder and with awe. He directed his attention to the sky and saw a hurried flock of swallows. He thought how all these beautiful landscapes are so wonderful and perfect, that the most beautiful paintings in the galleries represent failed copies.

„An interesting title. Commented Leonardo after Machiavelli had informed him about his new play.

„Mandrake, huh? Let me guess, somebody is going to drink a potion of it?"

Machiavelli chuckled.

„You will find out soon. But you will not be in the audience. I would like you to act."

Leonardo smiled shyly.

„I will make a tragedy out of a comedy, Niccolò."

„You won't. _Fidati di me, andrà tutto bene_. All you have to do is stand and read the text."

Leonardo sighed.

„If that is so, than I can't wait."

Machiavelli smiled at his enthusiasm. As they shook hands, Machiavelli jumped with happiness inwardly. One more actor should join in and the play may begin.

It was noon when Machiavelli arrived to the inn „La Volpe Addormentata", which was in the south part of Rome.

As he tied his horse in the stable, he heard loud swearing next to him. A young man in his early twenties was leading two black horses as he mumbled angrily. Based on his observation, Machiavelli concluded that he was one of La Volpe's thieves.

„ _Oh Dio_. Why are women so complicated?"

He sobbed, looking at the sky.

„What are your troubles, my friend?"

The young man sighed.

„I am not afraid of anything. I was in a hundred fights, I caught snakes, jumped with a parachute, slept on a cemetery, but when it comes to one girl, there I am _una fighetta._ "

Machiavelli wanted to reprimand him for his language, but instead, he patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. Even though he said it roughly, everybody would be softened.

„You love her very much and so conquer that fear and approach her. You will never know if you don't try. Maybe she will like such an adventurer."

The young man giggled.

„What can I impress her with? I don't even know what she likes. Can you give me an advice?"

Quoting love rhymes was not the advice this young man in love was asking for.

„Give her roses. They are symbol of love and I don't know what lady would not like such a pretty gift."

The young man smiled and immediately got on the white horse.

„But before you leave, my curiosity is piqued why did you sleep in the cemetery?"

„It is the safest there. There is no living soul."

Machiavelli looked at him surprised and wished him luck. The young man thanked him and rode off.

„Niccolò. Long time no see, my friend. How are you?"

Machiavelli turned and saw his friend La Volpe leaning against the door of the inn. If he had had a pile of plates in his hands, he would have broken them in a blink of an eye. La Volpe was accustomed to appearing out of nowhere when you least expect it.

Together they walked into a full inn, which was actually a secret hideout of the thieves. Frequent guests were enemy soldiers who came for gambling and alcohol. Machiavelli noticed one of them banging his head on the table because he had lost all of his money. He chuckled at his behaviour, because he knew that La Volpe made sure they always lose.

„Vices are the biggest evil after the wars. It destroys the man and everything he has been building all his life. Only strong persons can resist and stop being slaves to it."

Machiavelli nodded.

„I agree. My biggest vice, when I was an adolescent, was biting my nails. I tried with vinegar, pepper, gloves, but I still didn't stop. It took me a lot of time and will to stop that habit."

La Volpe laughed.

„Out of your strong character Niccolò."

He shrugged his shoulders and became serious.

„Tonight we are having a play at the headquarters. Since we need one more actor, I came hoping that you would fill that empty spot."

„ _Lo spettacolo_?"

„ _Sì_. A comedy written by me."

La Volpe had heard countless times Machiavelli's story that going to a theatre represents a cultured act, because theatre plays enrich and fulfil man's soul. Spectators of the theatre plays can identify with the main character and purge some of their emotions, thus theatre plays can have positive effect on emotional life of the spectators. He was not a fan of that type of art, so he could watch with equal interest both novices and also mature amateurs and professionals. He did not like either funny costumes or the sweet perfume of powder.

However, Niccolò Machiavelli was his friend. The friend he doubted for a long time and without strong proof. The man across from him could have now been in a grave because of his carelessness.

La Volpe took a deep breath and nodded.

„I will act. But don't expect too much from my acting, because you will be disappointed."

Machiavelli grinned.

„ _Grazie mille_ , _amico_. I owe you for this."

La Volpe waved away with his hand.

„You owe me nothing and don't even think about it anymore. Whatever you need, I will do my best to help you."

Machiavelli thanked him again for his kindness, while La Volpe thanked heaven for his friend's unawareness.

First cities and countries were created on the banks of the rivers, lakes, seas. Amazed by the magic of water at the time of winds, sunrises and sunsets, its painting of the sky, its mysterious moving, its clarity and its depth, people knew that only next to it they would have easier life, because water will provide what it needs, fertile and tame land, i.e. food.

And what also leaves one breathless is its continuous movement. It never stands still. It is always on the move, whether on the surface or underground. Water reflects the main principle of the universe, never stop and never go back. Only go forward. Further. Carry everything that can be carried. Go towards bigger expanses. Have a goal. And when it is reached, accept new strength, new power. New purpose and new value.

Water is always free. It cannot be captured and it adapts the way it suits it. Either it can be taken, briefly, or it is spilled looking for new directions.

To have river Tiber was a real blessing, but like everything free, it was neither appreciated not preserved. How many sad life stories has this river heard? How many legends of love? How many historical moments does it remember?

Machiavelli always thought about this when he looked at the water. It is so normal and natural to people that Tiber is here, flowing, that they do not see it, it will flow even if they do not look at it, and if its surface freezes over, beneath the ice it will flow in its course, at moments faster, at moments slower. Whatever they do, it flows, peacefully, in its riverbed and with its own life.

Since he could no longer suffer noise and lamentations of the recruits at the hideout, he decided to take a walk down to the banks of the river Tiber.

He started by slow steps towards the river working his way through lacy curtains of the willows which keep all the secrets of Tiber. He sat on a bench and looked at turbid water.

Such silence. Such peace. Even the sparrows went quiet, and the choir of frogs was, apparently, taking a break. Only Tiber murmurs, telling its ancient story.

He inhaled fresh air and started reading his comedy carefully. Even though least of his worries were who would act which character, he still decided to quickly pick the roles for his friends and recruits. He was very excited and could not wait for the evening to come.

As he wrote down his notes, a strong breeze wanted to take his papers away. Thanks to his reflexes, that did not happen. Machiavelli joked.

„Well, you will not take away my work for which I have worked hard."

He directed his gaze to the sky which was not clear and blue any more. He stayed several more minutes by the bank and hurried to the hideout.

As the other members of the brotherhood pushed in order to see the play, Machiavelli was assigning roles to his friends and recruits. When everybody was settled, there was silence and the play could begin.

Machiavelli went on the stage first and started his play with introduction. After that, La Volpe and one of the recruits started the first act. Black-haired young man played smitten Callimaco, while La Volpe was adroit and skilled servant Siro. Even though La Volpe rolled his eyes several time while he read his lines, everything was going wonderfully and Machiavelli could not have been happier.

However, luck decided to turn his back on him that night. When the young man read the name of the woman his character was in love with, Claudia stopped further course of the comedy.

„Stop. Why is her name Lucrezia? Why isn't she called, let's say, Claudia, like me? Of all the beautiful names Niccolò you picked precisely that name. She is humble and faithful in your play, but she is actually _puttana_ who has lost her moral compass a long time ago. I refuse to act the character of a woman bearing the name of Lucrezia Borgia."

Machiavelli looked at her in surprise and tried to calm her down.

„Claudia _calmati_. It is only a play."

He thought he would regret his decision to let Claudia become a member of brotherhood. The woman will make a massacre.

„Go to hell."

She replied to him angrily and left them slamming the door hard.

Ezio rolled his eyes at the behaviour of his sister. Both Lucrezia and Claudia are beautiful names which would adorn any girl. His name translated means eagle. Except Machiavelli's name, the others sound like animal kingdom.

Machiavelli immediately went over that and found replacement. He did not want all of his effort to go to waste.

Recruit continued to read Calimaco's speech loud and clear until he mentioned old and foolish Nicia.

„Ah, so that is the character I am acting."

Said Ezio bitterly.

Machiavelli wanted to slap himself hard. On one hand he thought that he had made a big mistake, because the main character was more matched to Ezio, as seducing and experienced type. However, on the other hand, he thought that it was not important.

„Do I look old and stupid to you, dear friend?"

He hissed worse than snake.

Almost everybody knew that Ezio was sensitive about his age. It was a public secret.

Machiavelli started waiving his hands nervously. If he intended to kill him, he should select the sword of Altair.

„Of course not. You can -„

Couple of recruits started giggling at the scene before them. Ezio heard them and looked at them cruelly. Tomorrow he will make Dante's Inferno for them at the training. They immediately silenced and grew serious.

„I didn't expect such move from you. I don't want to participate in this circus any more."

„Ezio, please, there is no need to create commotion. We all agreed to help Niccolò so let's fulfil that promise. I like how the play has started and I have a couple of ideas in which direction it could go."

Leonardo, God bless his soul, tried to cheer his friend with his cheerful disposition. However, anger did not leave Ezio. He pulled his hood and stormed out. Leonardo looked at Machiavelli sadly and went after Ezio.

Everything went to hell. Machiavelli rubbed his forehead to relieve the headache and quietly started gathering his papers and notes.

' _Why didn't somebody pour poison in my drink while we were making preparations'_ he thought.

„You can go back to your previous activities. Please accept my apology for the wasted time."

He tried not to let sadness overcome his voice.

La Volpe approached him and patted him on the shoulder. Exhausted from the events of the day, Machiavelli only nodded to him.

It started to rain. Drop by drop, harder and harder. Machiavelli stopped and raised his head upwards. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth letting heavenly water to wash his face and fill his throat. He was wet, but he did not care. Ground under his feet was wet, it was turning into mud and could not soak everything that the clouds were releasing.

Lightings illuminated the eternal city, and the rain washed its dusty streets.

When he entered his house, he greeted his wife and immediately went to the house library. He did not want to talk about his failure until he calmed down. The wind played with the curtain behind his back and brought in a breath of freshness into a room full of books. Machiavelli stood by the window and breathed in the smell of summer rain whose drops rhythmically hit the roof of the house.

„ _Post nubila_ , _Phoebus_."

He murmured the old Latin saying as he dried his hair with a towel.

Soft knocking on the door startled him from his thoughts.

„ _Entra tesoro_."

„Niccolò, you have guests."

Said his wife with a smile on her face.

He looked at her confusedly, while she only indicated to him with an index finger to follow her. On the fourth step he found out who these guests were. Claudia was nibbling her lips nervously and was looking at the interesting floor, while her brother Ezio held a bottle of wine in his hand and looked at Machiavelli sadly. Leonardo was playing with his fingers drawing invisible circles, while La Volpe held his hands crossed over his chest, looking serious. Everybody greeted him, either with a nod or murmuring a greeting.

While Machiavelli considered whether to chase them out into the rain or to accept their apology, his wife broke the awkward silence.

„What kind of a host are you? Your friends came and you behave as if you want to murder them."

She pulled him in front of them and went to pour wine for the guests.

He took them to the sitting-room and they all sat down on the couch like children about to receive a long lecture. Ezio cleared his throat and stood up.

„We came to apologize. We have no justification for our behaviour which was childish and inappropriate. I know how much you were looking forward to this, and we trampled over all of it like heartless bastards. Even the recruits scolded us and left us locked in the gallery until we agreed to come to you and ask for forgiveness. Niccolò Machiavelli, you are a friend any person could wish for. You are a loyal, honourable, wise and reliable man. However, you are not perfect either. You are obstinate, sometimes arrogant, sarcastic, too proud, but nevertheless you are our friend and we would not change you for anybody and anything in the world. If I had any power I would make all of you immortal. I love you more than I can ex-„

When emotions started to overcome him, La Volpe silenced him.

„Thank you for the beautiful speech Ezio. Trust me, even Cicero would be embarrassed. To cut the long story short, please accept our apology Niccolò."

Machiavelli opened his mouth to say a few words, but Ezio stopped him and suddenly hugged him. Immediately the others did the same. Machiavelli returned the hug and thanked heaven for wonderful friends. When his wife entered with a tray of glasses of red wine and saw her husband inundated in hugs, she winked at him with a smile. He smiled and playfully rolled his eyes.

Everything returned back to normal. They spent the whole night talking about the plot of his comedy, about events from the past and plans for the future.

Machiavelli thought that _**La Mandragola**_ needed some more improvements and changes, so its opening night will wait. Until then, he wants to be with his friends and that they together, with joint forces, liberate Rome.


End file.
